It Started With a Wand
by MarieKavanagh
Summary: Eleven-year-old Sirius Black is finally ready to receive his first wand. Both he, and his family, expect him to follow in the footsteps of his ancestors as to the type of wand that will choose him. But fate has other plans for the young Black heir...
1. Chapter 1

Sirius could remember, with excruciating clarity, the very first time he'd used a wand.

It had been late morning one summer Sunday, Sirius's least favourite day of the week. Sundays were the days that relatives would come to visit; loathed occasions in which he was expected to sit quietly and talk politely when spoken to, all whilst wearing whichever itchy, formal robes his mother had chosen for him that day (and more often than not, wrestled him into). Sirius had detested these boring afternoons ever since he had been deemed old enough to begin joining his relatives for the weekly gathering, several months ago.

It wasn't fair. Regulus didn't have to sit through the boring adults talking for hours about politics and family matters. He could hide away up in his bedroom until he was summoned down at the very end of the gathering, for the sake of making an appearance. But then his little brother was barely six, and at seven years old, Sirius was far more grown up, not to mention more important, as the heir. Which meant there was no way he could wriggle out of it.

The only thing driving Sirius through the dull tedium of sitting through the grown ups' conversations, and grandfather Arcturus's weekly demand for Sirius to recite what lessons he had learned that week, was the promise of a slice of cake at the end of the afternoon tea.

A particular lover of sweet treats, Sirius's mother had learned early on in his involvement with the weekly tea parties that it was best to withhold cakes from her son until he was safely out of his expensive formal robes, after an unfortunate and undignified incident in which he had ended up wearing more icing than he'd eaten, drawing disapproving looks from his grandparents in the process.

And so, cake became a weekly treat which would only be awarded to him if he had behaved impeccably throughout the whole afternoon. His mother would hiss in her son's ear as she straightened his robes, pulling Sirius firmly back into place every time he sulkily tugged himself free from his mother's grasp, that any leg-swinging, fidgeting or attempts to trip up Kreacher as he served the tea, would mean no dessert until next week, when he would be able to try again.

As boring as the weekly afternoon teas were, particularly for a child as restless and fidgety as Sirius Black, they were the one occasion during which he could (usually) be trusted to behave himself. Months of practice had taught the young wizard that so long as he sat still, answered all of Grandfather's questions correctly and kept his eyes fixed on the layered cake sitting heavily on the silver cake stand in the centre of the table, his insatiable sweet tooth would be indulged once the extended family had finally retreated back through the grand drawing room fireplace from which they had emerged.

The Sunday morning in question happened to be a particularly grim one. Sirius sighed as he watched the rain pelt the roofs of the Muggle houses across from his bedroom window, the gloomy sky a shade of deep grey. It shouldn't be allowed to rain in July. It wasn't fair. He'd put up with a whole winter of being cooped up inside the house, away from the cold and rain, unable to play outside in their little courtyard (obscured by charms and wards from the view of their Muggle neighbours, naturally). Why should he have to put up with the boredom of being stuck indoors during summer as well?

Sighing miserably, the bored seven-year-old boy clambered down from where he sat on top of his desk by the window (something he was expressly forbidden to do, but how else was he supposed to enjoy the sight of the Muggles outside going about their lives when the desk was in the way?) and aimed a half-hearted kick at the corner of his bed. He had precious little time to amuse himself on Sundays before his mother would come to force him into whichever set of dreaded formal robes she had selected for him to wear that afternoon, and yet no decent way of enjoying it.

Without so much as a second glance at the many toys and books scattered untidily about his bedroom floor, Sirius sighed and flopped down onto his unmade bed in boredom.

Suddenly, there was a loud crashing noise, which sounded rather like a large pan being dropped, which Sirius supposed must have come from the kitchen.

Sirius sat up immediately, the single loud noise in a house full of silent dullness capturing his curiosity instantly. He knew very well that he was supposed to remain in his bedroom at this time, out of the way of the preparations, but the temptation was simply too much to resist.

Scrambling to his feet and rushing to his door, Sirius strode out of his bedroom and trotted off down the corridor to investigate.

He tiptoed down the staircase, past the disapproving portraits of his ancestors shaking their heads at his sneaking about the house unattended, until he found himself hiding behind the door frame of the kitchen, peering through at the sight of his mother, already dressed in one of her best Sunday gowns, dictating orders to the flustered-looking house elf dashing to and fro in an effort to clean up the mess on the floor - a large metal saucepan lay on it's size, a large quantity of soup spilled across the kitchen floor.

"Clumsy little idiot, are you incapable of even the simplest of tasks, now?" Walburga spat angrily at the elf.

"Kreacher is sorry, Mistress, Kreacher did not mean to slip. Kreacher will clean it up and make a new batch in time, yes Kreacher will"

"I should think so" Walburga replied coldly."And you'll fix the rest of your errors as well"

She brandished a slip of parchment from her robes pocket, the menu she prepared every Saturday afternoon for the weekly Sunday tea. She waved it in front of the elf's stricken face sharply.

"I specifically wrote ginger snaps, not ginger bread!" Walburga snapped in annoyance at the elf scurrying about collecting the ingredients needed to hurriedly bake the missing treats for the impending tea party.

The formidable witch's fists were balled tightly, her knuckles white with effort, a sign that Sirius recognised as her attempting to control her famously-short temper.

"Kreacher is sorry, Mistress. Kreacher will make them in no time. Oh yes, he will. Kreacher will make sure the tea is perfect" Kreacher murmured hurriedly as he carried out his tasks.

"Indeed you will" Walburga replied, her voice cold. "I will not stand for such mistakes to occur again. Is that understood, Kreacher?"

Yes, Mistress. Of course, Mistress. No mistakes"

Sirius couldn't help but snicker to himself at the sight of the chastised elf.

Kreacher was always out to spoil his fun, with his annoying habit of appearing during any game or antic he knew the boy's parents would not approve of, such as sliding down the banisters or using his juvenile magic to make the antique suit of armour on the second floor landing wave stiffly at Regulus to make him laugh.

Though he could have stayed to watch the elf's torment further, Sirius rather didn't fancy the risk of being spotted by his mother, who surely wouldn't approve of him sneaking about and eavesdropping on her. Sirius quietly tiptoed away from the kitchen and hurried along the corridor to the drawing room, where he knew that most of the food platters for the afternoon tea would be laid out waiting for their guests' arrival. Perhaps he could pilfer a sugar biscuit or two, or maybe even a finger-swipe of icing from the cake that was always sat in the very centre of the table.

As he carefully pushed open the great, heavy wooden door to the drawing room, Sirius's eyes darted around the great room, relieved to find it empty, as he knew it would be. As he had just seen, his mother and Kreacher were in the kitchen, Reg was upstairs playing quietly in his room, and he knew very well that Father wouldn't emerge from his study until precisely a minute and a half before two o'clock; the exact amount of time it took for him to arrive in front of the fireplace to greet their guests.

Sirius's gaze rested upon the great table draped in it's heavy black table cloth, exquisitely embroidered in shining silver thread with the constellations he had been trained to recite since he first began his lessons. Sure enough, the table was heaving with the afternoon spread, including a spot currently filled by the offending plate of ginger bread.

Tossing his unruly black hair out of his eyes, the boy dashed over to the dining table and leaned up onto his tiptoes to snatch a sugar biscuit from it's silver platter. He quickly stuffed it into his mouth, scattering the crumbs he dropped onto the carpet with his shoe.

Having snaffled up a biscuit and pocketed one more for later, Sirius was all set to clamber up onto a chair to make a swipe at the icing on the magnificent strawberry gateaux in the centre of the table, when his eyes suddenly caught sight of something peculiar resting atop the antique piano in the far corner of the room.

Abandoning his quest for cake, Sirius dashed excitedly across the room to the piano to find that his suspicions were correct. Sitting discarded atop the shining, black piano, it's dark brown wood set out against the jet-black of the instrument, was a wand.

His mother's wand.

A wave of excitement rushed over Sirius. He had wanted a wand since he was old enough to know what they were. He burned with longing whenever he saw his parents and relatives brandishing their wands, capable of making all sorts of exciting things happen with the magic they commanded, far superior to that of the feeble tricks his own juvenile wand-less magic could produce.

Sirius had endlessly begged his parents for his own wand. Every birthday and Christmas, he had demanded one for his present. He'd stamped his foot and protested loudly when they refused him. To his mother's intense shame, the boy had even protested loudly out in public when they'd passed Ollivander's wand emporium in Diagon Alley, after she'd refused to take him inside in search of a wand.

Even when he had switched tactic and tried asking politely, a rarity indeed for the young Black, for for a try of his mother's wand, if he couldn't have his own, he had been refused. On threat of no Christmas present at all if he didn't stop asking for something he knew very well he wasn't old enough to have, Sirius had finally, reluctantly given up his quest for a wand.

But now, here was a wand. Left out, ripe for the taking. The fact that it belonged to his mother was a mere complication to be handled later.

An accomplished piano player, Walburga Black rarely partook in the hobby, citing that it was a lazy indulgence when there were more productive tasks to be getting on with. But when she did play, it was often Sunday mornings; a time for rest and relaxation before hosting the weekly family gathering. Sirius supposed it must have been the commotion from the kitchen which caused her to leave her spot on the still-pulled-out piano bench, leaving her wand behind in her haste.

His grey eyes glinting mischievously, Sirius reached out and picked up the wand.

His fingers suddenly felt very warm, with a faint tingling sensation running through them. It was the most peculiar sensation, as though the wood had come alive in his hand. Sirius gave the wand an excited wave through the air, grinning triumphantly at the crackling gold sparks which shot out in a long streak before him. Mother and Father were wrong. He was old enough for a wand.

His fun was short-lived, however.

Suddenly, before the sparks had fizzled out, the wand in his hand suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, the tingling increasing to an almost-painful vibrating sensation. Against his will, Sirius's arm waved about wildly with the wand in his grasp. Try as he might, he was unable to stop it. It was as though the wand itself was acting without his consent, harnessing his uncontrollable young magic for its own gain.

Before Sirius could attempt to stop it, the wand shot out more violent sparks in various directions. The flashes of light - bright, electric blue, this time - bounced off the drawing room walls, leaving black scorch marks on the wallpaper in their wake. Several flashes of light eventually found their way to the dining table, crashing into the food platters, shooting small explosions of biscuit crumbs and gateaux cream across the floor, leaving nothing worth eating untouched in their wake.

After several moments, the blue flashes seemed to fizzle themselves out, and Sirius was left standing amid the chaos of the now-destroyed drawing room, rooted to the spot in shock, his legs shaking beneath him. By some miracle, both himself, and the antique piano were unharmed, but the sofas, the carpets, the very walls of the room were scorched and smoking.

The magnificent spread of food lay in ruins across and surrounding the table, which leaned to one side, one of it's legs now missing.

The beautiful silver-embroidered table cloth now sported a vibrant display of icing stains, the effect finished with a large scorched hole in one section, the silver threat unravelling to the floor.

"What in Merlin's name was- Sirius Orion Black!"

Sirius jumped as his mother's shrieks reached him. He whipped his head around to see his mother staring at him from the doorway, pale-faced in shock at the scene before her; her drawing room in ruins and her seven-year-old son stood, mercifully unharmed, in the middle of the chaos, clutching her stolen wand in his shaking hand.

"What in the name of Salazar did you think you were doing?!"

Walburga marched across to the room, snatching her wand out of the boy's weakened grasp.

For once, and quite possibly the first time in his short life, Sirius Black was lost for words. He had no valid argument, no defence to offer. He had been caught at the scene of the most heinous crime, the evidence against him overwhelming.

And even if he had anything to say, he was far too shaken from the frightening experience to utter a word, not to mention the fact that he couldn't resist shrinking a little under his mother's accusing gaze.

Sirius barely resisted as his furious mother grasped him tightly by the arm and pulled him upstairs to his bedroom. The portraits of their ancestors shook their heads once again at the boy as they passed, this time with "I told you so" smirks upon their painted faces. He was firmly deposited inside his bedroom with his mother's advice that he construct a suitable explanation and apology to present to his father this evening, once their guests had left.

Sirius was momentarily relieved at the implication that he wouldn't be joining the family for the afternoon this week - before remembering that, thanks to his own reckless actions, there would be no cake at the end of the day.

"Thank goodness your magic isn't yet strong enough to do anything more than surface level damage" Walburga seethed with annoyance as she vanished all of the numerous toys and books scattered about the room with a flick of her wand, only to be returned once his parents were satisfied he'd been suitably punished.

"We should hopefully be able to repair the damage before your grandfather arrives" the Black matriarch continued, half to herself, half to her son, who now stood looking suitably cowed beside his un-made bed.

"Though how I'm going to explain why his favourite strawberry gateaux is missing from the table remains to be seen. And after I'd promised we'd have it this week! The elf couldn't possibly make a replacement in time, useless wretch..."

With her son's bedroom now looking suitably punishingly devoid of all means of entertainment, Walburga turned to leave the room, giving Sirius a frustrated sigh and shake of her head as she left, locking the door behind her.

With his mother's words about his magic being weak still ringing loudly in his ears, Sirius crawled up onto his bed and curled himself miserably around a pillow, unable to help himself from sniffling at the humiliation of his lack of magical control.

The young wizard was only glad Regulus hadn't been there to witness his failure. His goody-two-shoes little brother had a bad habit of parroting their tutor's argument that neither of them would be ready for a wand until they were eleven years old, and Sirius could think of nothing worse than his little brother being proved right.

But as Sirius had so thoroughly proved to himself, Reg was right. He wasn't yet old enough for a wand of his own.

Until, at long last, several years later, the long-awaited day arrived when he finally was.


	2. Chapter 2

The handsome screech owl which arrived pecking at the kitchen window one sunny morning in mid-July had nearly jumped out of its feathers when it was practically pounced on by the over-excited eleven year old boy who had been pacing the kitchen impatiently in anticipation of his arrival all morning.

Sirius snatched the envelope, bearing the official Hogwarts crest as it's wax seal, out of the bird's beak, absent-mindedly tossing the owl a knut to catch neatly in its beak as he ripped open the letter excitedly. The owl turned away with an indignant screech at his rude recipient before returning to the skies above London for the return journey to Scotland.

Sirius practically trembled with excitement as his bright grey eyes poured over the school supplies list, wanting to be sure be absorbed every word of the letter's contents before it would be plucked out of his grasp for his father's inspection, knowing all too well that it was unlikely to be returned to him.

His grey eyes gleamed as they rested upon the neat, emerald green lettering, informing him that he was to bring to Hogwarts "One wand".

"Well then" said Orion Black as he evaluated the letter himself a few moments later before pocketing it, to be filed away appropriately in his study until further need of it arose.

"It would appear an outing to Diagon Alley is in order"

"Reg, you've got the buttons of your cloak done up wrong" Sirius sighed hopelessly at his little brother as he emerged from his bedroom, the nine year old boy, small for his age, appearing swamped in his brand new cloak with the hems unevenly askew.

"Come here"

Sirius yanked Regulus closer to him by the material on the front of his robes and began undoing the delicate silver fastenings down the front of his cloak, which were made in such a way that they criss-crossed the next clasp down as they fastened, weaving themselves into an intricate silver pattern down the length of the material.

His little brother had always struggled with the complicated details of the particular style of robes their mother insisted they wear whenever out in public. And, as they were currently between governesses, Sirius having driven the latest one away last week with a family of toads hidden in her bed ("It was her own fault, she claimed that she was a fan of animals. I was simply... testing her truthfulness"), the elder Black brother found himself having to help the boy deal with the difficult buttons, ties and fastenings himself.

"You're so lucky, getting your own wand..." Regulus sighed wistfully, staring down at his feet as his brother fixed his cloak for him.

"You'll get your wand next year, Reg, don't worry" Sirius reassured the younger boy as he finished refastening his cloak, nevertheless unable to keep his own excited smile hidden.

"A whole year..."

"It'll go quick Reg, I promise" said Sirius, giving his brother's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Patience, boy, there's time enough for you yet" said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black from his portrait high up on the wall behind the pair, in that superior voice which so often grated Sirius.

"A proud day indeed, another Black obtaining his first wand" came the voice of Sirius Black I, come to visit from his own portrait on the floor below for the occasion of seeing the boys off on this noteworthy occasion.

"Lets hope he controls it better than he controls his temper" Phineas replied snidely to his companion in oils, who was tactfully silent, but gave a discreet side-nod in agreement.

The eleven-year-old boy aimed an indignant kick the wall below the portrait, satisfied that his shoe left an unsightly scuff mark on the wallpaper for Kreacher to scrub clean later.

His great-great-grandfather's portrait was by far his least favourite in the house. One conversation with him made it easy to understand why he still held the honour of being Hogwarts' least popular headmaster.

"You're just jealous because my wand is going to be better than your boring old elm ever was" Sirius snapped up at the portrait defensively.

Endless lessons on family genealogy and history had resulted in both boys being able to list their ancestors' wands on command, for better or worse.

"Boring?" Phineas snapped back angrily, his painted nostrils flaring at the insult. "You know full well that a wand of elm is a most dignified choice, my boy. A wood which values only those of purest ancestry, capable of truly advanced magic. I am proud to have been the owner of one, as so many in our family have done both before and after me. Why, isn't your own Mama the proud owner of an elm wand?"

"Yes..." Sirius muttered in reply.

"I wonder what she would make of your opinions on her 'boring old elm', hmm?"

The portrait raised its eyebrows threateningly at the boy who suddenly seemed to shrink a little at the mention of his mother.

A small flash of panic crossed Sirius's face and he tightened his grip on his brother's hand painfully before scowling again.

"Whatever" the boy snapped - still moody, but cowed by the threat nonetheless.

"Do you know what sort of wand you want, Sirius?" asked Reg, a slim note of envy evident in his voice.

"Haven't decided for sure, as long as it's something powerful"

You'll get what you're given, child, you know that" Sirius Black I said knowingly, to his namesake's annoyance. Though far less snappy than Phineas Nigellus, the elder Sirius was often unconsciously patronising in his dealings with the wilful young heir.

"Yeah, I know, the 'the wand chooses the wizard', whatever" the eleven-year-old huffed impatiently. "But I'm bound to be chosen by a powerful wand"

"Not with that arrogance, you won't" Phineas scoffed, taking out the elm wand he was so proud of from his robes pocket and twirling it in his long, gnarled fingers. "You'll end up with a dud, just to spite you. Take you down a peg or two in your own reckoning"

"Nonsense, Phineas" Sirius Black I chided his companion in canvas. "The boy is bright of mind and his magic is strong. And besides, he's a Black. You know full well that Blacks have always favoured wands of dragon heartstring core"

"That's the most powerful of the three cores used by Mr. Ollivander" Regulus chirped up suddenly, ever the eager schoolboy, wanting to prove his absorption of the lessons his brother seemed to doze through and yet memorise so much more easily than him.

"Right you are, young man" the painted Sirius replied with an approving nod.

Regulus beamed at the praise.

"A powerful core indeed" agreed Phineas Nigellus with a nod of agreement.

"And as such, it has naturally favoured our family for centuries. Indeed, a Black chosen by a lesser wand is truly a thankfully-rare occasion" Sirius Black I continued.

His young namesake rolled his grey eyes. He had often wondered why his ancestor had never thought to go into academia during his lifetime, for all he seemed to revel in the chance to lecture them both at any given moment.

"Well obviously it will be a dragon wand" the young Sirius replied with a roll of his eyes. "It's a family tradition"

"So now you care for this family's traditions, hmm?" Phineas Nigellus tilted his head down at the boy in bemusement.

"When they concern me getting a better wand than yours, yes" Sirius shot back with a scowl.

"Your parents are too soft on you, boy" said Phineas with a disapproving shake of his head. "No son of mine would have dared address his noble ancestors in such a way"

Sirius opened his mouth to shout back an angry retort, but was stopped by a shy tug on the material of his cloak.

"What type of wood do you want to get, Sirius?" Regulus asked his elder brother.

The younger Black brother always seemed to choose his moments to divert the conversation just when his elder brother on the brink of an argument.

Sirius supposed he could understand. Reg's eyes, their grey hue matching that of his own, always went suspiciously shiny when people started shouting in front of him.

"Fir, like Father's wand, maybe" said Sirius, pondering the many wand woods their tutor has educated them on. "Or maybe elder! Yes, I bet I get an elder wand-"

"Don't be so foolish boy, you know full well how rare they are" snapped the boys' painted great-great-grandfather.

"Besides-" he added, turning to the elder Sirius sat beside him. "-did you ever hear of a wand of elder wood paired with a dragon heartstring core?"

"No, never" Sirius Black I shook his head in disapproval. " A foolish combination it would be, indeed"

"A powerful one, it would be, indeed" Sirius shot back at his ancestors.

"Far too powerful, recklessly so"

"I could handle it!" Sirius clenched his fist determinedly and stood up straighter, almost arching his back in an attempt to give himself as much height as an eleven-year-old still awaiting a growth spurt possibly could.

"Over-confident little fool" Phineas Nigellus chuckled unkindly."It is not a case of sheer power alone. It is a case of which wand suits you the most. And if that happens to be a meek little pear-and-unicorn-hair, then you'll just have to lump it, I'm afraid"

Sirius very much suspected that it would cheer the painted wizard for a whole year to see him return home with such a wand.

"Well that's not going to happen" Sirius replied stubbornly. "You just see if I don't get a fir, or even an elder. Then you'll be sorry"

"Wand of elder, never prosper" Sirius Black I added in his infuriatingly-patronising tone. "You'd do well to remember that, young man"

Sirius scowled rudely at the portrait.

"Why should I care what you say?" Sirius lifted his head haughtily. "You're just a silly old picture"

Sirius Black I shook his head in disappointment, giving up on his quest to educate the boy at last.

"Foolish child" he muttered wearily, walking out of the frame, presumably to return to his own portrait on the floor below.

"You just wait" Sirius snapped at the thunderous-faced portrait of Phineas Nigellus. " I'll get a wand more powerful than either of yours ever was, then you'll see. Come on, Reg"

Sirius stuck his tongue out rudely at the pictures on the wall before pulling his little brother along the landing towards the stairs that would take them down to the drawing room, where they were to meet their parents by the fireplace.

"You don't really think you'll get an elder wand, do you?" Regulus asked, looking up at his elder brother somewhat anxiously.

"Well... probably not, I suppose" Sirius conceded, his voice wavered for a moment before regaining it's usual firm confidence. "But still, it's sure to be something almost as good. You heard that stuffy old painting, Blacks have always had powerful dragon wands"


	3. Chapter 3

The four Blacks swept gracefully out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, each parent clutching the arm of the son they had Floo'd with from Grimmauld Place.

Regulus gave an undignified cough as he inhaled some of the cloud of soot that billowed around them, earning himself a sharp glare from his mother. The boy quickly covered his mouth and attempted to stifle his coughing as his father tapped both he and his brother with his wand to remove the black smudges from their robes, inspecting them both before nodding approvingly.

"How an establishment can consistently fail to keep its fireplace in order, I'll never know" Walburga murmured as she vanished the soot smudges from the hem of her skirts.

As the family headed for the doorway to the main section of the pub, there was a loud crack as their faithful house elf and pack mule for the day appeared, following meekly in their wake.

Orion led his family through the main bar of the Leaky Cauldron. Mr and Mrs Black swept through the building proudly with a natural air of casual elegance, their heads high, each of them steering a son who's identical grey eyes glanced around the busy pub at the crowds as they passed.

Sirius darted his head around wildly, wondering, as he always did when the family visited the Alley, why the crowd always seemed to quieten as they walked through the pub, with some witches and wizards occasionally turning to mutter to each other as they passed. Sirius wished he could stop to demand to know what they were saying, but his father's grip on his shoulder steered him forwards towards the entrance of the main Alley.

Sirius always looked forward to the rare outings the family took to Diagon Alley. He relished the hustle and bustle of the crowds, the noise, the smells, all so much more exciting than being stuck inside dull old Grimmauld Place. As always, he longed to explore the more obscure shops; the Magical Menagerie, Gambol and Japes' Joke Shop, and the numerous little rickety stalls selling all sorts of oddities.

But alas, Sirius knew all too well that any request he put forward to visit such places would be denied by his parents. He had tried asking enough times before to know better than to bother. On their last visit back in April to purchase new spring robes from Twilfitt and Tatting's, Sirius had made a bolt for it deep into the crowds in an effort not to miss the exciting demonstration of the new range of delayed-igniting stink bombs outside the joke shop, only to be quickly recaptured within the crowd of children and pulled firmly away by his mother.

No wonder Orion's grip on his son's shoulder was so firm.

Beside her husband, Walburga strode gracefully, her haughty gaze occasionally flickering disapprovingly upon some offensive sight or other. She kept a firm hold on her younger son's hand, gripping him tightly in her grasp. In Regulus's case, it was far less for fear of him running off and more a case of ensuring he didn't fall back in the bustling crowds and become lost.

"Honestly, whatever next?!" Walburga hissed disapprovingly, shooting a disgusted sideways glance at the sight of a pair of very self-conscious-appearing Muggles, stood outside Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, dressed abominably in their jeans and T-shirts, accompanied by what one could only assume was their son, dressed far more suitably in school robes bearing a Hufflepuff crest.

"They would never have been permitted here in the old days" Walburga shook her head in disgust. "It seems they're happy to let all sorts in, now. We'll be completely overrun with filth before long if we're not careful!"

"Indeed" sniffed Orion in agreement with his wife, his eyes flickering towards the Muggles for a moment before returning his gaze to the task of keeping a close watch on his slippery elder son, who was now craning his neck eagerly to catch a glimpse of the Muggles as the family passed them by.

"Now, we have a great deal of items to purchase" Orion drew the school supplies list from the inside pocket of his cloak. "We'll start with the book list, I think"

Sirius could feel his impatience bubbling ever stronger within him by the minute as he trudged alongside his parents and brother from shop to shop along the Alley, barely taking an interest in the majority of their purchases, regardless of the fact that they were all for him.

He tapped his foot impatiently as he was measured for his new school robes, sighing in frustration as the salesgirl slowly and carefully folded and wrapped the garments in brown parcel paper, the finished bundle being dumped unceremoniously on top of the growing pile in Kreacher's arms.

The family proceeded along the Alley from shop to shop as the day wore on; Orion with his grip ever-firm upon Sirius's shoulder, Walburga still clutching Regulus's hand tight in her grasp, and their house elf now struggling to walk in a straight line under the burden of his load. Kreacher swayed occasionally under the weight of the wrapped parcels in his arms, slowing every few minutes in an effort to regain his balance. With each reduction in pace, Walburga would nudge the elf sharply in the back with her boot, prompting him onward.

Sirius was sure his parents were purposely making him wait until the very last stop of the day to procure his wand at long last. It was a lure, like the promise of a slice of cake for a well-behaved afternoon tea with the family when he was small. Sirius knew all too well that if he misbehaved out here in public, embarrassing the family in the process, his wand would be denied him for another day and he would have to wait even longer to finally possess one of his own.

At long last, the family approached Ollivanders' wand emporium, with its faded gold lettering on the shop front and single wand resting on a plush purple cushion in the window.

Orion, naturally, led the family, triggering the loud tinkering of a bell as he pushed open the shop door and ushered his sons inside.

As the wizards filed inside, Kreacher took his expected place standing outside the shop to wait for them. A wand emporium was certainly no place for a mere house elf.

Walburga noticed how the elf's spindly legs shook under the weight of the pile of packages he carried. He looked on the verge of collapse. It certainly wouldn't do to risk breaking so many purchases before they'd even arrived home.

"You may sit" she said to the elf before turning to enter the shop after her husband and sons.

"Thank you, Mistress" Kreacher muttered gratefully with a humble bow of his head before gently setting his burden down on the cobbles and promptly collapsing to the ground himself.

Sirius glanced round him excitedly at the empty shop, with it's shelves stacked high to the ceiling with endless boxes of wands, waiting to claim their wizard.

And one of them is mine, he thought to himself gleefully.

Impatient with the lack of instant service, Orion cleared his throat loudly, prompting a seemingly automatic appearance by Garrick Ollivander himself from behind a shelf of wands.

"Ah, good day, good day, all" the elderly wizard greeted his customers cheerfully as he strode forward to the front counter.

Unlike the majority of the shopkeepers they had encountered throughout the afternoon, the wandmaker seemed entirely unphased by the rather imposing sight of the family before him, with their expensively-tailored robes and haughty stares.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"My son, Sirius Black, is ready to obtain his first wand" said Orion, gesturing to his son with a hand on his shoulder. "He begins his schooling at Hogwarts in September"

Was there a faint note of pride in his father's voice, Sirius wondered, or was he simply hearing things?

"Ah yes, of course!" Ollivander's eyes lit up in recognition as his gaze darted between Sirius's mother and father.

"Orion Black - Fir and dragon heartstring, a nice tidy twelve inches. A particularly firm wand, if I remember correctly?"

"You do indeed, sir" Orion nodded stiffly.

Ollivander quickly turned to point a finger at the witch stood beside her husband, frowning in indignation from being pointed at so crudely.

"And, ah yes, Walburga Black-" Ollivander continued, regardless. "- wood of elm, dragon heartstring also, eleven and three quarter inches, I believe?"

"That is correct" Walburga replied, a note of pride in her voice.

"Yes, yes... A particularly elegant wand, I remember. I trust it has served you well?"

"It has" Walburga replied, her hand twitching slightly over the pocket of her cloak, tracing the outline of the wand of which she had always been proud.

"And now, another Black ready for his first wand" Ollivander's gaze fell upon Sirius, his bright blue orbs seeming to bore into him, evaluating his every feature in a way which made Sirius feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Best we'd get started then, hmm? Come forward, boy"

Slightly put out by the tone of the man, far less respectful than which Sirius was used to being addressed with by outsiders, the eleven-year-old stepped forward to stand in front of the counter.

"Hold out your wand arm"

Sirius extended his right arm. A previously-inanimate tape measure which lay out the counter suddenly burst into life, laying itself against the length of his arm several times, wrapping itself around his wrist and repeating each action twice for good measure before being picked up and examined by Ollivander.

"Yes, yes... Naturally... Of course..." the wizard muttered to himself, sounding half-mad to Sirius.

"Right then" he suddenly announced loudly, catching the boy off-guard. "We'd best get cracking. Now, tell me, Sirius, has your magic made itself know very much before? Accidental or otherwise?"

As Sirius nodded enthusiastically, his mother's clipped voice from behind him scoffed "Accidental? Hardly. Sirius Orion's magic has made itself far too known for one of his age. It's high time he had a wand with which to control it, in my opinion"

Sirius couldn't fail to hear the obvious undertone of bragging in his mother's voice, an element that certainly wasn't present when she was reprimanding him for his many mischievous magical misadventures at home.

"I see..." Ollivander noted, clicking his fingers in decision. "Well then, we'd better find a wand able to keep up with your formidable magic, hand't we?"

As Ollivander retreated to his stacked shelves, Sirius turned to grin triumphantly at his little brother, who stood close beside their mother. He was right. He needed a wand powerful enough to match his own power.

"Now then, your family has always had a long and faithful association with a core of dragon heartstring within their wands, if memory serves" came the wandsmith's prattling voice as he returned to the counter bearing a long, worn wand box. "Yes, I would say that would be a sensible starting point to work forwards from. The wood of choice, however, remains elusive at present..."

The family, uncertain as to whether the wandsmith was talking to them or simply muttering to himself, awaited his return in silence.

"Here we are" he said, blowing the dust off of the box, seeming oblivious of how the cloud swirled around his young customer's scowling face.

"Walnut and dragon heartstring, eleven-and-a-half inches" Ollivander announced as he pulled the dark brown wand from its box. "Judging by the prominence of your magic, I daresay this wand may be a likely contender as a match for your mind, dear boy"

He handed the wand to Sirius, who fought against his excited urge to snatch it, and instructed him to "Give it a wave"

Sirius felt the same warmth in his fingers that he remembered from his previous misadventure with his mother's wand several years ago. But this time, he thought determinedly, he would be able to control it.

"Hey, Reg!" he called suddenly, turning to towards his brother, bearing a look of mischief which Regulus was unfortunately familiar with. "Watch out!"

Sirius pointed the wand at the wide-eyed younger boy, sending a small shot of red sparks in his direction.

Regulus yelped in surprise and darted behind his mother, who, in a split-second, had cast a shield charm which sent the sparks fizzling into nothing in mid-air.

"Sirius Orion Black!" Walburga hissed at her elder son in fury. "How dare you do such a stupid, foolish thing?!"

"They were harmless! I make them all the time!" Sirius protested loudly.

"It's true, Mother, they don't hurt, really!" Regulus leapt to his brother's defence, despite still appearing obviously shaken by the surprise.

"Silence!" Orion snapped at his sons, striding forward to pluck the offending wand from Sirius's grasp and place it back onto the counter.

The Black patriarch fixed his elder son with a sharp warning glare, his steely eyes glinting with calm threat.

"If you cannot act with the level of maturity required to own a wand, then perhaps we should re-evaluate whether you are indeed ready for one, after all"

Sirius's face drained of colour at his father's words. His parents couldn't really deny him a wand, could they?

"It was only a joke..." he mumbled, staring sulkily down at his feet.

"Wands are not for joking with, young man" Ollivander told the boy in a serious tone."I should think twice before attempting anything so fool-hardy again"

He didn't seem to notice the quick look of annoyance shot at him by the family patriarch at the impertinence of an outsider attempting to discipline his son.

"In any case, this is certainly not the wand for you" Ollivander began to pack the walnut wand away.

"What?" Sirius barked rudely, his head snapping up instantly to glare at the wandsmith. "But it worked fine!"

"It worked, certainly. But walnuts have a certain element of recklessness within them, and I fear that to pair the two of you together would be ill-advised in the long run"

Sirius shifted from one foot to the other impatiently as Ollivander returned the wand to the shelf and began his search for the next choice.

"Now then"

Ollivander strode forward bearing another dusty box.

Sirius did well to step to one side before the man blew another cloud of dust at him.

"Aspen" said Ollivander, handing Sirius the ivory-white wand. "Twelve and a quarter inches, dragon heartstring, naturally. This particular wand may perhaps be a more likely companion"

All-too-aware of his parents' warning gazes upon him, Sirius gave the wand a flick, noting that his fingers didn't tingle or warm to the wand's touch.

Nothing happened.

Sirius flicked the wand again, harder, becoming frustrated when still nothing happened.

"Stupid wand..."

He gritted his teeth as he flicked it again, harder still.

"Not stupid, just simply not for you, I'm afraid" said Ollivander as he quickly took back the wand before Sirius could attempt again to force magic out of the reluctant wand.

"I sense this wand does not share your enthusiasm for showy spells"

He paused for a moment as he boxed the wand up again, a sudden thought seeming to take him.

"However, if it is a show you wish to perform..."

The wandmaker hurried away, returning quickly with a third box.

"Dogwood" Ollivander declared, holding out the beige-coloured wand to Sirius, who took it eagerly. "A particular favourite of mine. Dragon heartstring, nine inches. A little short, perhaps, but nevertheless... On you go, boy"

The wand seemed to buzz excitedly in Sirius's grasp, and the boy responded with a smirk before pointing it in the direction of the vase of flowers at the end of the counter. He was hopeful when the wand obeyed his request to turn the flowers from red to blue, but disheartened when the glass vase promptly burst into a thousand shards around them.

"I didn't mean to do that" Sirius said quickly, glancing round at his startled parents.

"No, no, of course not" Ollivander sighed as he took back the dogwood wand, putting it back in is box before he waved his own wand at the shards of glass on the floor, mending the vase. "A pity. Dogwood favours those with magic of a more showy nature, but perhaps yours is not quite as simple as that-"

"Obviously" said Walburga, her voice clipped with slight annoyance. "My son is not a trick pony"

"Indeed not"

If the wandsmith was put out by Mrs Black's superior tone, he did a good job of hiding it.

Several minutes of searching later saw Ollivander return to the counter and offer Sirius yet another wand to test.

"Perhaps a nice elm may suit you. I've sold many elms to Blacks over the years, and your magic style does seem rather akin to that of your mother"

Suppressing an indignant grimace at the though of being likened to his mother, Sirius reluctantly reached out to take the elm wand. His mind wandered back to the last time he'd held an elm - his mother's wand.

He always shivered unpleasantly when he recalled that unfortunate day.

To Sirius's relief, Ollivander snatched the wand back out of his grasp a mere few seconds later, before he'd even had the chance to give it a timid wave.

"No no no, absolutely not" Ollivander said firmly, placing the elm wand back in it's box. "I fear you and the elm wood are not kindred spirits after all, young wizard"

"A fact we were already unfortunately aware of" Sirius heard his father say silkily, under his breath.

He felt his cheeks redden slightly at the unpleasant memory of his disastrous attempt to use his mother's elm wand.

Time wore on, and Sirius began to grow tired of waving wand after wand - some producing negative results (a burst vase here, a scorched wall there), some more positive, only for the wandmaker to snatch the wand away from him anyway.

"A tricky customer indeed..." Ollivander mumbled as he packed away the latest reject - a yew and dragon heartstring wand.

He seemed oblivious to the evident growing impatience of Mr and Mrs Black, who began to exchange concerned side-glances between one another. Beside them, Regulus had begun to yawn, the nine-year-old beginning to fidget and tap his foot before being given a warning tap on the shoulder by his mother. The boy was instantly still once more.

Sirius was beginning to panic. He was running out of woods. What if his great-great-grandfather had been right, and he'd end up with a pear wood wand, or worse, no wand at all? What on Earth would Father say to that? Was it even possible to be rejected by every wand in the shop? He desperately hoped he wouldn't have to find out.

"Now, then" said Ollivander, handing Sirius a jet-black wand. "Ebony and dragon heartstring, eleven inches. A wand for, shall we say, the individual. Let's give this a go, shall we? I have a positive feeling about this one..."

I hope you're right, Sirius thought to himself as he took the wand, satisfied to feel the familiar warmth run through his fingers as he wrapped them around the handle.

Giving the wand a flick, the wand seemed to hesitate at first, waiting until Sirius was beginning to wonder if it would obey him at all, before emitting a pleasant plume of lavender smoke into the air.

Sirius grinned. He liked this wand. But his face fell as Ollivander took it back again.

"Oh come on, that was a good one!" Sirius snapped, his patience wearing dangerously thin, his temper threatening to flare.

"Hold your tongue, boy!" Orion chided his son for his rudeness.

"Not to worry, young Sirius, not to worry" Ollivander reassured the boy as he hurriedly packed the wand away. "I do think we've found your wood, you'll be glad to know. Yes, I did rather hope the ebony would take a liking to you. They're known to favour those of strong will and with a particular element of courage within them"

Sirius's eyes lit up again and he was unable to keep himself from smiling proudly at the wandsmith's praising.

"However, there is the matter of..." Ollivander's expression faded as he withdrew deep into his thoughts. "Most unusual, I must say, but not unheard of... Why did I not think before? Well of course, I wouldn't have had reason to, would I? Not considering..."

The mad old codger, as Sirius had now firmly decided he was, continued to mumble to himself as he retreated back to the depths of his fortress of wands.

"Well then, young Sirius Black" said Ollivander as he returned, appearing somewhat apprehensive, holding yet another wand box. "I do believe we may well have a match here. But never mind me, let us see what the wand itself has to say on the matter..."

Sirius watched intently as the wandsmith un-boxed what he supposed could be his wand. It was long, jet-black like the previous wand, and shaped rather peculiarly - an almost square handle, slimming to a point at the end, and etched with unfamiliar runes.

"Wood of ebony. Exactly twelve inches long"

Ollivander held out the wand to Sirius.

"And core of phoenix feather"

Sirius's hand stalled in mid-air.

"Are you quite sure, sir?" Orion's cool voice asked from behind his son.

"Quite sure indeed, Mr. Black" said Ollivander firmly. "I believe we may have been foolish in our endeavour to pair your son with a dragon heartstring wand"

"Are you saying I'm not good enough for a dragon wand?" Sirius demanded with a scowl, put out at the comment.

"Sirius Orion, don't be so rude!" Walburga hissed at her elder son.

"But he said my magic was powerful so how can I not have a dragon wand?" Sirius argued back, balling his fists angrily.

Sensing an argument brewing between mother and son, Ollivander was quick to jump in with an explanation.

"Sirius, I am not at all suggesting your magic is of a lesser quality" he said gently. "Dragon heartstring wands may have the most raw power at their disposal, but it is not necessarily right for everyone to possess such power"

He continued quickly as the boy opened his mouth to argue, cutting him off.

"Now, phoenix feathers, however, are decidedly more interesting. They are the rarest of the three cores I choose to work with, and, by far the most particular about whom they choose to work with. I rather fear that our dragon wands have found your magic a little too overwhelming, perhaps even being a little jealous of it. Your own raw power does not necessarily need enhancing with a dragon core wand. This phoenix wand, however, may choose you as a suitable companion to work alongside. I feel that a phoenix wand may be an equal partner for you, young wizard"

Placated by the wandsmith's words, Sirius silently nodded and reached out to take the ebony-and-phoenix-feather wand.

As he curled his fingers around the sharp edges of the handle, Sirius immediately felt a surge of warmth shoot straight up his arm, instead of tingling his fingers as the previous wands had. It seemed to hum in his grasp, instead of vibrating crudely.

A surge of encouragement and confidence washed over him, and Sirius pointed the wand in the direction of the flower vase he had previously smashed. The flowers obeyed his command to turn blue, as before, but no explosion followed. He then aimed his wand high in the air and drew a large swirl of purple smoke in the air, grinning with glee as the wand easily obeyed his requests.

"Hey, Reg!" Sirius called to his younger brother, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief who stared, wide-eyed, up at the smoke billowing through the air. "Watch this!"

Sirius confidently pointed at the rickety wooden chair immediately behind Regulus, and grinned excitedly as the wand obeyed his request to turn it into a particularly ugly-looking cat, almost identical to the one owned by their great aunt Cassiopeia.

Regulus giggled at the sight of the cat, immediately recognising it's resemblance. And though it was a mere lifeless replica of a real, live animal, it was an impressive feat of magic for an untrained eleven-year-old nonetheless.

"Marvellous, marvellous indeed!" Ollivander crowed triumphantly, clapping his hands. "Yes, ebony wands do possess a particular interest in transfiguration. It seems this wand has found a kindred spirit in you, Sirius Black"

Sirius beamed with pride, clutching his new wand tight with pride.

Ollivander waved his own wand at the cat, turning it back into a chair once more.

"Yes, I do believe we have found a successful match at last" the wandsmith confirmed with a happy, if somewhat relieved smile.

"It would appear we have reached a conclusion, indeed" said Orion with raised eyebrows, his gaze examining his excited son curiously where he stood, clutching his new wand.

"Well, what a day this is, quite the day indeed" said Ollivander as he took the wand back from a reluctant Sirius and began boxing it up, wrapping it in brown parcel paper. "I do believe this is the first wand without a dragon core that I have sold to a member of your family, Mr Black"

If the wandmaker found this fact exciting, it was clear for him to see that the man before him did not share his unbridled enthusiasm in his son's departure from the traditional family wand style.

"Quite" Orion said tersely as he handed over the seven galleon fee for his son's wand.

Sirius felt his excitement fizzle out a little as he tried to work out his father's tone.

Orion Black was a man of few outward emotions at the best of times, but Sirius couldn't help but notice that his father's voice was notably lacking the faint, but nevertheless present, undertone of pride that it has possessed when he'd first presented Sirius to the wandsmith roughly an hour ago.

"A rare thing, it is" Ollivander continued, not oblivious to the lack of joy present in the expressions of both the boy's parents, so very unlike the proud cheerfulness he was used from parents when their offspring were finally matched with their first wand.

He fixed the proud man before him with a knowing look.

"A phoenix wand is one of very particular taste. They only choose those of a most exceptional nature"

"I'm sure" Orion replied, politely, but coolly. "I believe we are through here. Good day, Mr Ollivander"

Without awaiting a reply, Orion swept through the shop, the parcel containing his son's new wand under one arm, his other reaching out to rest firmly on Sirius's shoulder and guide him towards the door.

His wife extended the wandsmith a mere courtesy nod of farewell, Regulus at her side, as she left the shop with her husband and elder son.

As he was herded out of the door by his father, the young Sirius Black had just enough time to crane his head round and call out "Thank you!" and receive an encouraging nod from the wandsmith before the door slammed shut behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

"Kreacher, tea. In my sitting room" Walburga commanded, mere seconds after she stepped out of the immaculate fireplace of Grimmauld Place, Regulus at her side.

There were no soot smuts to be vanished from their cloaks and robes - the Black fireplace would never be allowed to descend into such a state as that of the Leaky Cauldron's communal hearth. The lady of the house would have her house elf's fingers scorched should he dare to allow anything of the sort to occur.

"Of course, Mistress, right away" Kreacher mumbled obediently, staggering slightly on the spot under the heavy weight of his pile of packages, not yet having been told where to sit them down.

"Put the parcels in the first floor storage cupboard" Orion instructed, noticing the sneaky side-glances his eldest son was giving the wrapped wand box on the top of the pile.

"And ensure that they stay there until the appropriate time that they are next required", he added, firmly.

"Yes, Master" Kreacher replied politely, giving Orion a courtesy nod - notably less enthusiastic to receive orders from him than from his beloved mistress.

"We'll dine at seven o'clock today, I think, not eight.. It's been a tiring day"

Kreacher gave another humble nod and hurried off to complete his list of tasks.

With that, Orion turned away from his wife and sons and made his way out of the room, no doubt retreating to the sanctuary of his study once more until dinner.

"Boys-"

Regulus's head snapped up attentively at the sound of his mother's voice. Sirius reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the retreating house elf on his mission to lock away his new wand.

"Go to your rooms until dinner" Walburga instructed her sons. "And change into appropriate robes before you come down"

"Yes, Mother" Regulus chirped obediently.

"Fine" said Sirius.

Walburga's grey gaze fixed on her eldest.

"And when I tell you to go to your room, that means I expect you to go straight there and to stay there, Sirius Orion"

"Of course" Sirius replied with a sweet smile.

Walburga eyed her firstborn knowingly for a moment, before tapping both her boys briskly on the back.

"Off you go, then"

Regulus followed behind his brother as the two boys obeyed their mother's orders, heading towards the staircase.

As soon as they were out of their mother's view, however, Sirius suddenly shot off, leaping up the stairs at a fast pace.

"Sirius, slow down!" the younger boy panted as he struggled to keep up with his elder brother as he raced up the stairs two at a time.

"Hurry up, Reg! If we're quick we can still catch him!"

"Catch who? Wait for me!"

As they reached the first floor landing, Sirius dashed ahead towards the figure of the house elf carefully loading his pile of parcels into the storage cupboard set into the wall at the very end of the hallway.

"Kreacher!" Sirius called out, his urgent voice puzzling Regulus, who had finally caught up with him and was panting heavily from the effort of the chase.

The house elf's bat-like ears perked up in a dog-like way at the sound of his name, pausing in the middle of his task.

"Kreacher, you have to go to the kitchen, quick!" Sirius urged him as he came to a halt in front of the startled elf, catching his breath. "The doxies are back!"

Regulus cocked his head up at his brother with a puzzled look.

There were no more doxies in the kitchen. Kreacher had cleared out the infestation several weeks ago, following an incident where a surprise swarm of the pests had successfully demolished a week's worth of food and trashed the kitchen for good measure. Sirius had loudly protested that he was not to blame, after being seen to find the incident suspiciously amusing, before Kreacher reluctantly proved the boy's innocence by finding the chewed hole in the floorboard behind the oven where the swarm had sneaked into the house.

On pain of being ordered to whip the soles of his own feet until they bled, Kreacher had taken pains to prevent another infestation, reparing the floorboard and giving the kitchen a going over with doxycide at least once a week in desperation to prevent a repeat.

The house elf gasped, his eyes widening in alarm for a moment before narrowing suspiciously up at Sirius.

"Kreacher knows Master Sirius likes his little tricks. Kreacher is sure there are no doxies in the kitchen. Kreacher keeps the kitchen clean and safe. Oh yes, he does. Kreacher will not have doxies in his kitchen. What would Kreacher's mistress say to any more foul pests-"

"It's true, Kreacher!" Sirius snapped urgently over the house elf's rambling. "We saw them ourselves, just now. Didn't we, Reg?"

The younger Black's grey eyes widened in panic for a moment before meeting his elder brother's urging gaze. He knew what that look meant.

"Yes, we did" Regulus nodded in agreement at Kreacher. "It's true, really"

Knowing as he did that the younger brother was far more trustworthy than the elder, Kreacher's suspicion vanished instantly, replaced by one of anguish.

"Oh no, no no no" he gabbled to himself, clutching his shaking head with his hands. "Kreacher must fix this, he must! No more doxies, Mistress was very clear. Oh, how will Kreacher ever be forgiven?"

Still muttering to himself in panic, Kreacher disappeared in an instant with a loud crack, off to investigate the situation down in the kitchen. The cupboard door was left swung open, the house elf's task left unfinished in his haste.

Sirius's unusually anxious demeanour vanished instantly, replaced by a more familiar sneaky smile.

"He's far too easy, honestly" the boy laughed to himself, flicking his black hair out of his eyes.

"Why did you do that?" Regulus asked, baffled.

"To get my wand back before the little cretin locks it away, obviously" said Sirius, sinking to his knees to rifle through the pile of packages, half-packed into the cupboard.

Regulus glanced around him anxiously, sure that at any moment they would be caught. But the hallway behind them remained mercifully empty and silent.

"Aha!"

Sirius pulled out of the pile the long, thin wand box, wrapped in brown parcel paper.

"Sirius, no! You can't just take it"

"And why not?" Sirius demanded, raising his eyebrows at his brother. "It's my wand, isn't it? Why should they take it away from me?"

Regulus dithered, his automatic answer of "Because Father said so" sounding feeble when pitted against his brother's look of determined defiance.

Sirius snatched up the wand box and tore off the parcel paper. He slid the wand box out of its cover and, surprisingly carefully, pulled his wand out of its box.

He twirled the jet-black ebony wood between his fingers, smiling at the familiar warm, tingling sensation that ran through his fingertips as he brushed them over the intricate runs carved into the wood.

"It's so pretty" Regulus breathed, staring at the wand in awe.

"Yep. And it's powerful, too. I can feel it" said Sirius proudly. "And it's mine"

Catching his brother by surprise, Sirius suddenly took off back down the hallway, his wand clutched in his hand, the rest of the untouched parcels containing his school books, equipment and robes abandoned without a second glance.

"Now where are you going?" called Regulus, scampering after his tireless brother.

"To show old Phineas that he was wrong!" Sirius called back down the hallway. "And scarpering before that elf gets back!"

Sirius led the way up the winding staircase, jumping the steps two at a time again. Regulus hurried after him, careful not to trip on the long hem of his cloak. Sirius darted along the hallway, skidding to a halt in front of the large, golden-framed portrait containing a snoozing Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Oi, wake up!" Sirius barked up at the portrait rudely. "Look what I've got!"

The dozing painted man, slouched in his chair, head rested in his palm, gave a choked snore as he awoke from his nap. He glanced about in confusion for a second before looking down, sneering at his great-great-grandson.

"You again" said Phineas in a decidedly unwelcoming tone. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Sirius held up his wand proudly. with a triumphant smile.

Phineas's eyes widened in interest.

"Ah, so a wand settled for you after all, then?" he asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"It did more than settle" Sirius shot back, twirling his wand in his fingers, something Regulus noticed was fast becoming a habit in the short time his brother had owned his wand.

"Did I hear talk of a wand being successfully acquired?"

The voice of Sirius Black II rang through the portrait, a few seconds before the painted son of Phineas Nigellus entered the frame to stand beside his father. He peered down at the two young brothers, eager to see the newest wand to join the proud line of Black family wands.

"Hold it up then, boy, let us have a proper look" Sirius told his young namesake.

The younger Sirius held the sleek, black wand up again, and the two painted men peered down at it curiously.

"Hmm, yes, very elegant, I must say" said Sirius II. "An elm, then, is it?"

"Ha!" Phineas smirked in amusement. "All that tripe about 'boring old elms' and the boy goes and gets one himself!"

"It's not an elm!" Sirius protested, his tone insulted. "And your elm still is boring"

"Hold your tongue, boy" Phineas hissed.

"No, no, its far too dark for an elm, Father" Phineas's son shook his head. "It's a black walnut, surely"

"Don't be a fool, boy" Phineas snapped at his son stood beside him. "Black walnuts require an owner with sincerity and good instincts-"

He turned to jerk his head down towards the young Sirius critically.

"-Neither traits of which it would find in this one"

"Shut up, you stupid old man" Sirius hissed back at the painting, lowering his wand from the painting's critical gaze and clutching it tight in his fist. "And anyway, its not that either. It's an ebony wand"

"Ah, yes, ebony, of course" said Sirius Black II, nodding approvingly. "A courageous wand, indeed"

The eleven-year-old beamed proudly.

"A fool-hardy wand, more like" Phineas huffed, leaning on one arm in his chair in disinterest.

"It's a powerful wand" Sirius bragged. "It's core is phoenix feather"

At this statement, the heads of both painted men snapped towards the child in surprise.

Phineas Nigellus sat up straight and rigid in his chair, alert once more.

"What did you say, boy?" he demanded.

"My wand" Sirius said proudly. "It has a phoenix feather core"

Phineas slumped back in his chair and waved one arm hopelessly.

"What did I tell you?" he said to his son. "I said the boy would end up with a dud"

"It's not a dud!" Sirius shouted back.

"Be reasonable, Father, the wand is still a decent wood, regardless of core" Sirius II reasoned with his father, though the disappointed look on his own face gave away his true thoughts completely - this was an unfortunate day for the House of Black.

"Not good enough for a dragon heartstring wand after all then, eh?" Phineas continued relentlessly, deaf to the boy's protests.

"I was good enough!" Sirius argued. "In fact, I was too good for the dragon wands"

Phineas threw back his head and chuckled in amusement.

"Oh I see! Too good for a dragon wand, are you?" he repeated, mockingly. "Then, pray tell, how you ended up saddled with a lesser core?"

"It's not really a lesser core" Regulus piped up timidly, flinching slightly as the painted figures of his ancestors diverted their gazes towards him, but nevertheless wanting to attempt to defend his brother from the onslaught against his wand. "Just... different"

"We are Blacks, child" Phineas snapped at the younger Black brother stood before him. "We do not do different"

"Well, we do now" Sirius huffed haughtily. "My wand core is rarer than your regular old dragon cores. Phoenix feathers only choose those with special qualities. Ollivander said so"

"Poppycock" Phineas scoffed. "That old man was only trying to humour you, make you feel a bit better about not making the cut for a dragon wand"

"It's true!"

Regulus could see the frustration gathering in his brother's features, the volcano that was his temper threatening to erupt. His shoulders were tense, his eyes scowling, his foot rubbing against the ground as he fought against the urge to stamp it angrily. He'd seen it all plenty of times before. Right before his brother dissolved into a tantrum and was banished to his room to cool down.

"Calm down, child" Sirius the elder urged, his patronisingly calm voice only further igniting the younger Sirius's anger. "Oh dear, what a day..." he sighed, shaking his head. "The first Black to not receive a dragon heartstring wand in... how long has it been, Father?"

"Not long enough" Phineas snapped grumpily. "Trust this insolent whelp to go and ruin centuries of tradition"

Regulus stared sympathetically at his brother. He could see Sirius's resolve beginning to break. Despite appearances, anger was not the only way in which his brother was capable of responding to scathing remarks.

He looked away as Sirius glanced sideways at him, clearly checking to see if Regulus had spotted him harshly blink away the telling shine in his grey eyes.

"Well, I don't care what either of you say" Sirius said defiantly, his head held high. "My wand is better than all of yours put together. My magic is better than all of yours put together, too. I wasn't too stupid for a dragon wand, you were all too stupid for a phoenix wand"

"My dear boy, the core of one's wand is not a demonstration of one's intelligence" Sirius II shook his head. "Did you learn nothing in your wandlore lessons?"

"I learned enough to know that you're wrong" Sirius replied through gritted teeth. "Ollivander said phoenix cores are special and that my magic is special, and that's why my wand chose me.

"You ought to tread carefully, boy" Phineas warned, narrowing his eyes darkly down at the young Black heir before him.

"Take care with how much faith you put in the flattering words of outsiders, child" Sirius II urged, in a more gentle but no less serious tone.

"Indeed" his father took over, leaning forward in his painted chair. "The words of outsiders are only worth so much, even know-it-all wandsmiths. You are a Black, first and foremost. Our great dynasty has survived for hundreds of years through the strength and security of tradition, which, for better or worse, you have broken today. Don't allow this fanciful idea of your phoenix wand making you special to go to your head. At the end of it all, you're just the same as the rest of us"

"I am nothing at all like you" spat Sirius, his voice firm, his new wand clenched tight in his hand.

The eleven-year-old boy turned away form the frame, the paintings of his ancestors with their respective looks of anger and concern, and his stunned little brother. He marched off towards his bedroom door at the end of the landing.

His hand rested on the handle of his bedroom door as he turned his head back for a moment, a playful smirk curled onto his lips.

"As if I'd ever grow such a ridiculous beard"

With a mischievous smirk, Sirius entered his bedroom and closed the door firmly behind him.

Regulus could hear a faint clattering noise from behind the wood; no doubt the sound of his brother's attempts to hide his wand for as long as possible before it's inevitable confiscation until his first day of school.

"Your brother will come crashing back down to reality sooner or later" said Phineas as he slouched back down in his chair, running a hand thoughtfully through the beard his great-great-grandson had mocked so callously.

"He didn't mean it" Regulus retorted, meekly. "He really wanted a dragon wand, honest"

"I'm sure he did" said Sirius Black II, shaking his head sadly. "Alas, I'm afraid want and need are rarely one in the same"


End file.
